


Mask of the Daimyo

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Lion Force (1984)
Genre: Demons, Edo Period, F/M, Ghosts, Heian Period, Japan AU, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Lotura - Freeform, Lotura AU, Noh Theater, ghost - Freeform, period drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-24 08:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Allura is a lady from England traveling alone through Edo Japan, Lotor is a prince from the Heian period whose spirit remains amongst the living, trapped in an unhallowed state by divine punishment.He falls in love with Allura and contrives to spirit her away while she visits a Koyasan mountain temple, seeking the aid of the witch Haggar.





	1. Chapter 1

With vain remonstrance did Nanny and her retinue seek to dissuade the young lady from the purpose she had resolved upon. After years of surreptitious planning and what may be gleaned from eyewitness enquires, Allura was entrenched in her position – that come what may, she would make use of her tickets for one first class cabin aboard a ship sailing from England to Japan in the coming month. Promises to write often and profusely had no effect in abating the discouraging reception given to the lady’s expressed wishes to follow in her grandfather’s wayfaring footsteps. Rather, the revelation had the unfortunate outcome of setting the entire household into a state of shock and dismay, approaching in magnitude a declaration of war by a coalition of hostile powers.

In very little time, the stages of denial, grief, and bargaining were passed and repassed, with neither side giving so much of an inch to the other when the latter stage was concerned. The staff knew not what to do, ordered to both pack and unpack, set out for such and such an errand, and to not on any account leave the house – all semblance of decorum was broken by unseemly shouting, operatic sobbing and the slamming of doors.

The chaos of the evening did not settle on the following morning, nor the one after – the grave silence of the breakfast table being so heavy with unspoken words and averted glances that the sound of cutlery and the cautious footsteps of serving maids seemed to echo through the manor. The patriarch of the household could take it no more, setting down his fork and knife and casting his napkin on the floor in a gesture of finality, he uncharacteristically declared that the lady shall do as she pleases, and sink or swim with the consequences that her obstinacy and fortune dealt her.

No further word would he hear upon the matter, striding out of the room followed by the shocked protests of the leader of the front against the bold adventurer – who sat meanwhile hiding a smile of insolent satisfaction which could only be concealed by a feigned gesture of wiping the mouth.

Allura did not wait much longer at table, leaving behind the half-consumed tea and toast to return to her chamber and allow the reality of her case to sink in. in support of such an end, she took the ticket from where it had been hidden beneath a loosened floorboard – admiring it as one might a winning lottery ticket – half believing, half not, the reversal of her so-called fate. Reading the printed figures which she had seen time and again to check the time, date and port of departure, as though these potent hieroglyphics may have changed in the interval of her absence between rising from bed and returning from breakfast.

By the slightly creased fragment of paper (from the natural wear of much handling) she would soon be transported to a land beyond the grasp of well-meaning matrons and the looming shadow of tedious social obligations – transported to a land of mystery and wonder, its obscure essence wafted to her in the form of delicately embroidered silks, porcelain vases with their oriental motifs, the scent of frankincense at the alters of gilded gods, forbidden prints of courtly figures in compromising positions – stored away in locked cabinets and procured from distant shores by equally obscure uncles whose doings and whereabouts where at all times a matter of conjecture. Nevertheless, when they should appear like djinn, unannounced in one’s sitting room, seated upon an opulently uncomfortable divan beneath a mantelpiece lined with carefully arranged miniature terriers, when the sherry flowed liberally to one and all, then, only then, such tales would likewise pour forth, worthy to fill the leaves of a tome of Arabian Nights.

Allura sighed, closing her eyes and holding the ticket to her bosom, fully sentient to the realization that a dream was to come true. No longer would she be satisfied with vicarious travels of the kind described, in the prime of health and youthful spirit she would break the matrimonial nets which Nanny was vigorously casting about for her all in a single decisive blow, flying from her ornamental cage like dear Twitter, who, blessed soul, took full advantage of the flurry of spring cleaning to grasp his freedom, while all about him, distracted from his insignificant presence, certain of his dependence and subordination, allowed him to set his course of flight.

Allura, taking no mind of the unsubstantiated accusations leveled at puss at the time of the beloved songster’s liberation, passed the day in organizing her collection of maps and travel notes in preparation of the departure which seemed to loom on the horizon, not unobservant of the sound of a row taking place a floor above her, culminating in the sound of a sobbing Nanny returning to her chamber. While at this her heart did burn with a pang of remorse, she knew that at such a critical time she must not waiver, that it was too late for second guessing her resolve.

It was only during the weary evening hours that those pangs of anxiety grew deeper, penetrating through the great excitement filling up her spirit. For the first time, she would be all on her own, in a strange land, where she knew but the rudiments of language, custom and geography. She wondered if her fortitude and resourcefulness would be enough, wavering as to whether she feared or – the traitorous feeling, hoped—that her guardians were at that very moment contriving against her to stop her in her journey, that she was foolishly credulous to think that they would so easily sink into defeat. Even for such a case she had made provisions, having secured the assistance and sympathy of one of the maids; she would make her departure and send her luggage along a few days before the ship was set to sail to wait for it at a nearby inn, such that if any intervention was in store for her on the final day, she would not be left to its mercy. 

Amid the tension which had settled and the labors which preparing for the journey required, Allura was relieved when the day came at last for her final maneuver – it was late at night when she and Fyena carried the heavy cases through the window, a task associated with much peril and stealth, descending upon the lawn and scurrying along the perimeter of the vegetable gardens, such as to keep as much as possible out of the view of certain windows, and then carefully closing the gate behind themselves as they dashed past the fields of neighboring farmers and the old school house, the familiar chapel silhouetted on the horizon.

Allura wished she had taken more time to say goodbye to those things which had formed the backdrop of her life thus far, which in the night air had shrouded themselves with poignant significance – she wondered if she would ever see them again, if she would ever return to the countryside manor, as dull and dreary as it was, it was not without its charm and nostalgia, the effects of the changing seasons upon the surrounding trees and the merry fireplace by which the family would gather made her eyes water with half-suppressed tears. Hugging Fyena to her bosom, she struggle against her emotions as the coachman loaded her suitcases. When they could wait no longer, Allura handed her the parting letter and shut the door of the coach, the horses speeding away from the figure of a woman waving a tear-soaked handkerchief.


	2. Chapter 2

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	3. Chapter 3

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	4. Chapter 4

Disembarking from the hay cart, Allura pulled her suitcase after her on a wheeled wooden contraption she had the good luck of procuring from a kindly rice farmer, who further added to his benevolent reputation by offering to deposit her in the nearest town. It was market day and it would be not in the least inconvenience, for they were headed that way in any case, said the man and his wife – or so she thought from their attempts at pantomime.

After taking picturesque views of rice fields, meadows, and brooks, as well as some rather dilapidated shanty towns and abandoned trade posts, she thanked the farmer and allowed herself a moment to look about and catch her bearings, standing on the side of a road leading to a bustling market town.

Struggling greatly with her luggage, which although much diminished since she had first embarked upon her journey to the barest essentials of a lady, was still unfortunately imbalanced to Allura’s upper-body strength. Drenched in sweat, covered in dirt, and having torn the hem of her dress, the exhilarating novelty of her surroundings and the unthinkable freedom with which her road was paved helped her to endure the privations and hardships of the road. Having read accounts of a similar kind, she embraced the unexpected, firmly believing that she remained on course towards the ends which she sought, chiefly, to drink in all that she could of the many impressions bombarding her mind and senses.

Pausing for breath among a gathered crowd while unwrapping a slightly crushed bun of sweet beans, she joined the townsfolk in standing to watch an elaborate funeral procession make its way through the narrow streets.

By chancing to make enquiries of one of the onlookers dressed in European garb, she learned that a great Daimyo had passed away and ceremonies were being held in his honor at a neighboring temple, where most of the townspeople were slowly heading to offer prayers and behold the ceremonies for the repose of his soul. However, the chief attraction – the loquacious currency exchange clerk proceeded to point out – was the hope of catching a glimpse within the palanquins of the Daimyo’s relatives who had come to pay their respects and take possession of the ancestral home. Already they were making many overdue repairs to the foundation of the house in order to preserve it for posterity, although some would say rather too eagerly. While they were thus conversing, rain began to fall, slowly at first, then gradually increasing in force until it could well be termed a heavy deluge, threatening to dispel some of the strangely festive air which had gathered over town.

While Allura was mildly intrigued to see these paragons of high society, her attention was not sufficiently piqued to detract from the urgency of reaching the inn before she and her belongings were soaked to the dregs. While struggling with soaking maps, which threatened to turn to rags in her hands, and making a few ineffectual attempts at asking for directions – cursing herself for allowing the clerk to slip away amid the dispersing crowd without providing these valuable morsels of information – the lady’s flustered thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a hurrying figure pushing past her and thrusting a parcel into her arms.

A heavy bundle it was, tightly wrapped in paper and secured with a cord. Startled, she gazes after the peculiar stranger, a man in laborer’s garb who apparently had no intention of explaining himself. She debates whether to unwrap whatever it was, dispose of it or alert the authorities. Deciding upon the first, more by the motive of overwhelming curiosity than by any other reason which struggled to overcome it, the second decision to be made was whether she should unwarp it at the present moment or wait until she was in a more private setting – with this decision she sought to be sensible. 

Placing it carefully under her shawl to keep it from the rain, Allura resumed her efforts at asks for directions and in time made her way to a clean but modest guesthouse located not far from the town center. Her luggage had been sent over, to her relief, but before she had begun to consider unpacking her thoughts were found to be predominantly occupied by the bundle which she had been so eagerly waiting to open. Carefully at first, then with the excitement of Christmas morning, she tore back the paper.

Inside she found that which made her shudder – with a shriek casting the object on the floor with abhorrence, where it fell with a grinning bounce and a roll. At the sound the lady’s distress the innkeeper’s feet were heard quickly ascending the staircase, giving Allura just enough of a minute to conceal the telltale object – an old human skull – beneath her dress by an impromptu bow. With an abashed smile and by gestures of assurance, Allura comforted the confused woman that all was well, whose distress seemed to rival that of her guest’s, albeit at the thought that a certain troop of domesticated rodent had returned – the beloved pets of a prior tenant, who by the onset of debt collectors, was forced to abandon his companions and temporarily return to his village, believing his friends would be better provisioned for at their present abode.

The innkeeper, not entirely assured by Allura’s politely strained smile, nor hopeful enough to press further, departed without further ado. When alone again at last, Allura examined the parcel paper more closely, seeing a mark upon one of the thin crumpled sheets. This she carefully folded and placed in her purse, remembering her appointment.

…

As she passed along one of the streets, a certain house caught her eye, one well in the midst of a major renovation, from the looks of earth and rubble being carted away by nimble workers. It was not only this which drew her attention – there was the ensign which she recognized from the funerial procession as that belonging to the Daimyo. The same personage seen only behind the obscuring walls of a black and gold lacquered palanquin she later had the luck of encountering at a reception hosted at the home of the French ambassador, at which, amidst much ceremony and some social mishaps she is able to ask the meaning of the strange character which she had seen written upon the wrapping of a certain undesirable gift.

‘To destroy,’ one among the company translated, a quizzical look in eyes of some of the group about her table. All wondered as to the nature of her questioning yet receive little to elucidate the matter, for the lady shifted the conversation to the usual praises of the beauty of the autumn season, and before long they were interrupted by the servants bringing in platters of tea and sweetmeats. Entertainments consisting of traditional music were performed before them until the late hours, after which they reclined upon the moonlit terrace to watch the night sky. Before the conclusion of the autumn gathering, a servant discreetly brought Allura a tray of aloe wood upon which lay a sprig of maple with delicate scarlet leaves, attached to it was an invitation written in fine calligraphy and perfumed with the scent of hyacinth.

…

Demurely wandering away from the group, busied with boisterous conversation and warm sake, Allura wandered into the garden, passing along the ornamental bridge to a rock perching over a mirror-like pond. Therein the full moon was reflected and a spirit of peacefulness descended over her as the melody of a flute was heard floating over a band of indiscernible voices belonging to the intermingling guests. She felt also a certain loneliness melt over her heart, for she was reminded of the social gatherings which had been hosted in the house where she had been born, and how there too, she had smiled and laughed, and troubled herself over what to say, and deeper still along distant paths, the lady recalled how she crouched watching behind a door held ajar, gazing with a child’s curious eyes at the beautiful strangers, yearning to enter the mysterious world of womanhood.

She had never been able to shake from herself the inhibition of being an observer looking into a realm whose rules and customs were forever foreign to her, in the distant land to which she had come as much as the one which she had left behind. This she attributed in part to the guarded life which she had hitherto led, protected from the silhouettes of dark things hinted at in newsprint and in rumor meant for other eyes and ears than her own; never had she looked deeply into the face of death, lust, treachery, or brutality – knowing of their existence only by second hand accounts which chance had managed to slip through the sieve of her guardians’ vigilance. Whenever she encountered strangers she was therefore precariously poised by the wisdom and naivety of a child, obliged by the passing of years to step into the shoes of a young woman. A part of her was afraid of what should become of her when she would inevitably encounter the ways of the world thus unprepared, while at the same time, fearing more so to take upon herself a wary spirit, of one who suspects at every turn the wiles and machinations of a foe. In her eyes it seemed more worthy of a noble nature to imagine a surplus of goodness than of evil, lest malevolence should prove itself worthy of the name of villain.

By the rustling of the wind through the branches she was stirred from her meditations, looking up from the lotus strewn reflection in the dark waters to the other side of the pond where stood the figure of a man, his long dark hair falling over his robes white as moonlight. He placed his hands in his sleeves and approached the water’s edge, never taking his eyes from her. More footsteps were heard, voices too, calling her name. A group of ladies, one playfully taking her by the hand, questioning her as to what caused her to abandon the merriment of their company, murmuring to the lady and to each other, she recalled not what, whilst leading her back to the center of festivities. While the nymph-like group sought to whisk her away from the dreamlike realms of solitude, she had the opportunity to look back at the pond, but there was no sign of the man.


	5. Chapter 5

As the week passed, the lady occupied herself in furnishing her apartment and making calls upon other expatriates and friends of her family who she had been informed reside in the district, such that she may not feel isolated whilst learning the language and perhaps finding some assistance for how best to manage her journey, yet foremost amongst these hopes was that of finding a companion with who she may converse freely on familiar matters and unburden her heart. She also busies herself in arranging transportation and finding one suitable for the role of translator among the locals to assister during her journey.

She had progressed no further in unveiling the mysteries associated with the skull and funeral procession, nor the strange vision she had had, yet she hoped to shed light on the matter when she attended the approaching meeting with the Daimyo, who had been so courteous as to extend an invitation to her for a much coveted seat at an annual theatrical performance marking the end of the autumn season.

The narrative of the theater she had little hope of understanding, yet she had every intention of sampling what she could of the traditional culture and taking pleasure in it as far as was possible for one of the uninitiated – fond of novelty she was and eager to return with many tales of wonders when her family greeted her at the close of eight months.

Having dressed and arranged her hair in a modest fashion, Allura awaited the call of the innkeeper. In her eagerness, she was nevertheless able to remember the necessity of taking with her the unpleasant gift which still weighed upon her so far as to disturb her sleep, fearing lest one occupied in cleaning the room should discover it by chance – for she could give no acceptable account for it even to herself. Tucking it into her purse, she headed down the stairs. A palanquin was waiting for her at the appointed time and the innkeeper watched her in a stern motherly fashion she departed. 

Refreshments were given her after the theater; many a question was posed to the Daimyo as to the meaning of certain scenes – their exchange taking place by way of notes ceremoniously transported from one to the other by means of a silent attendant, passing between the screen which separated him and her. 

Much sincere praise was given to the elegant costumes, although the singing she could not help but find jarring to her unaccustomed tastes. To all he her eagerly scribbled commentary he was polite and obliging, although without pause there remained a strict unapproachability about him such that she was not entirely at her ease. Whether she had in some way caused offense she could not judge, yet she was much relieved when he offered to play music for her, relieving her of the need to make agreeable conversation. While admiring his playing and trying to decipher the silhouette of his figure cast upon the paper screen between them, the time passed imperceptibly.

A strange thing then happened, for a black swallow bird flitted into the room, passing so close to her that its wing grazed her cheek. Agreeably she assured him that all was fine and spoke of how wonderous the incident was, while her host apologized profusely for what he quixotically described as an importune omen of good fortune.

He left her for a short while in the company of a female servant who offered her a cloth and water personally brought by the Daimyo to wash her face. Left to herself, she took a small mirror from her purse to examine her cheek where she felt a slight sting. There was no sign of a mark, yet much fear was aroused in her heart by what she saw behind her in the glass.

The reflection showed to her an apparition which bore the form and countenance of a blackened corpse standing on the threshold of the chamber, a thing which had been petrified many years ago, or else been nearly consumed by flames in some past life. By some premonition she recognized with certainty that this was the figure of the Daimyo, dressed in fine layered robes so hideously contrasting with his unconsecrated person.

Allura struggled to mask her shock as the attendant greeted her cordially with a bow, carrying a fine porcelain basin and embroidered cloth, laying them down beside her as she completed a ceremonious bow. Slipping the mirror back into her purse, the lady forced words of gratitude which she hoped gave no sign of the impression which the apparition had made upon her.

Washing away the blood, Allura gazed fixedly at the silhouttee of the Daimyo, who had returned to his place behind the screen by way of a winding hall, the hideous image seared into her mind. He offered to resume his playing, but with politeness she declined, telling him of the unfortunate lateness of the hour. With obliging responsiveness, the Daimyo promptly summoned his servant to prepare transportation for her.

They waited in solemn silence, unlike that which had previously been occupied by a correspondence Allura subconsciously associated with the uplifting mood of a lover’s game. The minutes had grown heavy and the lady wished for a clock by which she could measure the passage of time. She wondered if the other would read in the hand of her calligraphy or the slowness of her replies the truth of her conscience. The flattering attentions which she had received that night, and even the moonlight vision she had seen on the evening by the pond had fallen under a sinister shadow – a fact which she could not help but mourn. The change neither she nor the Daimyo could dispel.

Before long, Allura began to feel the nausea of sleeplessness descend upon her, with a suddenness which she found almost unnatural. The silhouettes of the garden pines and the dim light of lanterns seemed to flicker and undulate in ripples, like reflections in a pool of water. The surrounding landscape formed strange and frightening visions before her, of golden cat-like eyes watching her intently with a possessive ferocity, and she sensed that the time was coming and that it was too late.


	6. Chapter 6

When next she awoke, she was in her bed at the guesthouse, and, having dressed herself sufficiently to descend the stairs and greet the innkeeper, she went on to inquire of the preceding night. The abashed lady informed her that she was carried there by her noble host’s attendants after she had fainted. Allura tried to appease the other’s concerns about the state of her health, indeed she felt no sign of illness and wondered at her own weakness and what impression it must have made.

The following days allowed her little time to consider repose, for having reached out to various quarters she was much occupied with social calls and matters of business, chiefly, her search for a suitable person to serve as translator. She plodded on with her plans, endeavoring to forget the mysticism and unaccountable daydreaming to which she had so lately succumbed, resolving at some vague date in the future to seek the aid of a doctor – in the case that some temporary illness had overtaken her mind and her senses, a thing most disagreeable and inconvenient , and nothing more. Only by drowning her hours in the purely pragmatic could she hope to evade the need to comprehend what she had seen the prior night.

After interviewing various candidates, the most promising appeared to be a young woman who had lived in the city since her childhood, the daughter of a Dutch merchant who had died of cholera. She was adopted by the family of his business partner and sent to study at one of the local schools, her learning of remote village dialects supplemented by the aid of private tutors. Although a younger travel companion than Allura had originally hoped for, the lady’s qualifications and cheerful disposition endeared her. At last an agreement was concluded and a travel allowance settled between the girl’s guardians and Allura, such that little remained but to prepare her luggage. Although the journey route was yet to be fully settled, certain landmarks were chosen, including the historical site of Koyasan.

Greatly pleased to have found a suitable person at last, Allura was in good spirits to partake of a social evening, meeting in person some of the long-time friends of her family and relatives. While the men sampled an array of sake and cigars the women clustered around a game of Go and shared their observations about various notables of society. Although Allura was not partial to partaking in such gossip at home, she could not help but take interest in the descriptions of the characters painted for her entertainment. In particular, the Daimyo with whom it seemed her fate was intertwined.

It was said that the man’s person was a matter of speculation, for few, if any, had had the opportunity to see him. Claiming a strict adherence to archaic customs, it was rumored that he kept a screen between himself and any noblewoman with whom he might interact as a matter of due respect to their modesty. Yet as to one’s own modesty, none seemed to equal the Daimyo himself, who whose hands and ankles were never known to be exposed to the eyes of strangers while entering his palanquin.

Those who had transacted business with him, whether man or woman, claimed that he likewise extended these rites to them, while geishas and musicians who would visit him for evening entertainments would smile in amusement upon hearing of his customs, for no such honor had been extended to them. Instead, the Daimyo would obscure his face from their view by donning a demon’s noh mask – a most grotesque eccentricity which had led to various theories arising about him.

Foremost amongst these, supported by evidence from diverse and reliable sources, is the claim that the nobleman suffered from a severe form of albinism. Several of his attendants, whom he selected and maintained by their merits in the way of preserving the privacy, if not secrecy, of their master. Even among these carefully chosen attendants, a select few had contrived the opportunity to see him unawares, or so they had claimed. They described his appearance as that of a man handsome in figure, yet with striking fiery eyes – with irises like a serpent and skin the hue of a drowned man, long white hair and pointed devils’ ears, slender hands and a fine nose. When first reaching the ears of the ladies, the fanciful description was a source of much tittering and laughter, nevertheless leading to a rather unpopular reputation for the Daimyo, who, as Allura soon learned, was generally ostracized by both the upper and middle classes from all engagements of a non-pecuniary nature. As a man of business, his reputation was of one who kept to the letter, rather than to the spirit of his pledged word – fitting well with his standing among the superstitious for being, well, a devil.

The company which he was reputed to keep was talked of as being equally distinctive and worthy of mention at card tables.

Many apothecaries, astrologers, fortune-tellers, and amateur chemists-styled-alchemists flocked to his lordly residence, displaying their wares, pouring out noxious brews, and unfolding secret scrolls out of voluminous sleeves – penned from top to bottom with illegible characters of a dark and seductively mysterious nature.

Indeed several mad recluses, conjurers and mountain gypsies had prospered in their trade by his patronage, but among these diverse charlatans first and foremost in the Daimyo’s esteem stood a certain hag who had spent several years in a solitary hut in the midst of an ill-omened wood gathering herbs which she would sell to credulous village girls at market fairs, her specialized skillset earning her the animosity of local matchmakers, poisoners and fortune-readers alike.

While also being on visiting terms with fox spirits, wolves, and hungry ghosts, this venerable person was in no time permanently established in a comfortable chamber of the Daimyo’s expansive residence.

Apart from the dark arts, the man’s patronage also extended to the noh and kabuki theaters, as well as skilled dancers and musicians – his tastes strictly avoiding all novelty and modern invention to a partiality for the established classics of bygone centuries. To savor these sophisticated amusements, he either hosted private parties within his own abode– inviting members of a secret society of devotees– or else visited the theaters in theatrical garb to rival those seen upon the stage, the motifs of which would invariably be in accordance to the description given by the performing ladies themselves.

To honor him, The Daimyo’s demon’s mask would at times be printed in silhouette upon the program of certain performances to which he had lent his munificent patronage, and on opening nights the shadow of his form was certain to be glimpsed taking his place at a seat designed to satisfy a preference for seeing without being seen.

…

Returning to the inn that night, Allura’s thoughts still lingered upon the strange and wonderous things that she had heard, concluding the account to be the sum of collective knowledge amongst the wives and daughters of her newly acquired social circle. She half suspected that many an embellishment had been passed down to her for the very purpose of entertaining, and that not all was to be believed – only it would take her time to sift through the truth and the half-truth, if she were so inclined to occupy herself – rather than simply dismissing the entirety as little more than an evening of trivial gossip. Surely there must be a reasonable explanation for such a mode of life.


	7. Chapter 7

She felt the wind rushing past her as a force of motion swept her shrouded form through a path of mountainous woodland. Allura recollected hearing the shouting of men somewhere far in the distance, yet far nearer was the sound of breaking tree branches and falling rocks, the elements making way before the power that was taking her far from the ancient town center. In the midst of the remote wilderness her mind stirred back into consciousness, her eyes opening slowly to behold that it was still night – the moon’s celestial eyes gazing down upon her, as she looked up at it and, with horror, upon the face of the Daimyo, transfigured into that of an unnatural being.

His eyes, like embers, his black hair turned ashen white. He seemed not to observe her awakening, for there was no slackening in his pace nor any sign of him regarding her. She remained motionless, knowing not how to keep her heart from beating -- as still as his appeared to be, for his chest seemed not to heave with breath.

Yet still he ran onward up the steep mountainside where none but larks and wild deer made their abode. To shout for help or attempt escape both appeared fruitless in her eyes when faced with the cold demonic phantasm which bore her away from the temple grounds.

Suddenly, through the heaving darkness, she saw a distant hut in the window of which was a light. She thought it may be that of a hermit priest, by the signs of the garden and the mark upon the wooden door. At that instant, the golden eyes looked into hers, as if in warning, and her voice was stranded in her throat to call out to the monastic. They passed swiftly on and the light grew dimmer until it was seen no more, row after row of ancient pines forming a barrier between it and her. Long robes billowed in the wind and again she could sense the anger of the elements. She thought of the skull and knew that it must have been through the ill-omened object that she was marked out by the fiend, regretting her reckless curiosity.

At last the demon’s feet did pause in front of the entrance of a cavern; shielding her from the overgrowth of pine branches, which themselves appeared to lift and turn aside to allow them passage.

After walking for some time, Allura again perceived the warmth of light. As they moved towards it, an unexpected sight greeted her eyes – although the air was permeated with the musty dampness unavoidable in subterranean regions, it was surely the hand of a master builder which fashioned the expansive chambers which occupied the rock-hewn cavity. A hall of proportions not unworthy of an imperial palace was decorated with simplicity and taste by a few choice pieces of antique furniture, calligraphy and vases housed in alcoves. Several paper screens separated this chamber from others, upon one of which was cast the shadow of a woman busy about some work set out on the floor before her.

Allura was not given long to gaze in wonder as a black-gloved hand was laid upon her shoulder, stirring her from one entrancement to another – its fingers encased in ornate gold nail guards of oriental design. Even in the dim light she was confident that the figure which she perceived was none other than the Daimyo, whose true form she had glimpsed in the looking-glass on the night when she had so strangely been overcome by faintness.

Her aversion did not pass by her host, for on his face – where had been written pride and anticipation – there appeared traces of disappointment. What these hopes had been she dared not ponder, only he seemed loath to accept her silent reproaches as his gaze did waver from hers.


	8. Chapter 8

Silently, Allura’s bare feet crept along the matted floor, endeavoring as much as possible to avoid casting a shadow upon the paper screens. Keeping close to the wall, she darted to the side of the gold lacquered screed and peered into the distant chamber where she thought she heard the clattering of earthenware and the murmuring of a crone. Indeed such was the picture which seemed to leap from her fancy and seat itself by a tripod hot with writhing smoke, seething with an odious concoction measured out from an array of jars which lined the walls before her. What manner of cure this well-stocked apothecary hoped to effect, and upon whom, she could but conjecture. Suddenly, the shawl which the hag had draped over her hairless head was lifted and two eyes like burning coals looked out from the blackened sockets. As if to taunt her, the woman removed the maiden noh mask she had been wearing with its porcelain-like painted features, to reveal one that was as shriveled as a pygmy head – an ancient corpse which sent a sharp pang of horror through the captive’s spine.

With the suddenness of intense fright, Allura turned away from the screen, running briskly with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. The feeling that she was being watched never left her since she had arrived at the accursed palace, it was therefore of little surprise to see the cat-like eyes and towering figure of the Daimyo waiting at the threshold of the doorway. Swathed in long robes of black and gray silk, he approached her with an obsequence jarring to one who has made the distinction between prisoner and guest.

He did not speak, but by way of gesture communicated for her to follow. Allura, trusting to find no safety in any room of the abode which she then occupied, indulged him in obeying. He led her up a narrow set of stairs, the darkness of the passageway illuminated only by the candle which he held before them. With careful steps they ascended onto a ledge overlooking a forest clearing marked by clusters of stones overgrown with moss and serpentine roots.

Although the place had the signs of long neglect, it was hardly so at that moment, for a troop of laborers were working by moonlight to hack away at the overgrowth, heaving out stones with their scrawny relentless arms. Swathed in rags and armed with shovels and picks, they were making quick work of the excavation site, for such it was. Like the crone, their heads were swathed in shawls and their faces masked. It was clear that their task master held them in little regard, for it was the mask of the fool that they wore one and all.

Standing upon the escarpment, the Daimyo held her by the arm, escorting her from the ghoulish scene, which was not for her eyes to dwell upon, to another set of steps along the side of the cliffside. After a precarious descent, he supported her as she stepped down onto a wooden landing. From there they walked amongst carefully pruned plants characterized by twisting limbs and stunted dimensions. A diverse forest was gathered in miniature around engraved stones and winding rivers, ornamental ponds and wooden bridges. Rich mosses and delicate flowers bloomed in carefully arranged clusters, inviting the eye to wander and retrace the many paths – all eventually leading one to an ancient teahouse, the jewel of the ornamental tapestry.

For a moment, Allura forgot her apprehension, the arm upon which she leaned becoming not that of her captor but of some vague ethereal figure of fanciful dreams, evoked from the pages of courtly love and imbued with the poetry of nature. She closed her eyes as the cool breeze swept her hair, wafting the scent of flowers and fragrant herbs, the uplifting aroma of the pines and cedars. Allura became aware then of the scent of decomposition intermingling amongst the others which no opulent perfume could mask, wondering only why she had not perceived it during their first encounters.

This strange being had grown fixated upon her – an obsessive love which he struggled to repress, one of rules and barriers which he dared not to cross. She did not understand what prevented him from acting on the desires of a man, whether it was by an external or internal force that he was kept asunder from the object which seemed to preoccupy him night and day, yet one which he dared not approach in love. How strange too, that he had allowed her to see his face – an abominable one, of death, and another, human it was, comely even. She recalled the aristocratic beauty which she ascribed to his features on the night when he played the koto for her, knowing then the secret of her own heart – a desire for affection and a form of companionship which she had never known. It was difficult to contrast the dream prince of her imagination with the hideous wraith-like things beings whose presence tormented her in her time of captivity. Something in the vivid expression of the Daimyo’s eyes had always struck her with an aura of malevolence which could not be dispelled.

Opening her eyes again, she ascended the steps of the tea house, leaving behind some of the illusion which had swathed her senses. As it slowly ebbed away in the shadows which obscured the garden, then began to return to her the aura of the other, whose attention seemed never to leave her.

They sat down before a low table, the silence sinking in around them. Even the sound of the birds and the rustling of branches appeared to drift further and further from cognizance. She could not look away from the diabolic mask before her, the other’s dark robes merging with the shadows, the contours of his shoulders becoming blurred, until all she could see was the horned noh mask draped with long white hair, swaying and winding around itself like serpents.

Allura sought to run by found herself frozen, as though her limbs were not her own and that her spirit had left the body, hovering somewhere just above it, while it sat like a lifeless doll, its face vacant and pale. She heard a man’s voice calling her name, the sound coming from no particular direction, at once distant and very near. She could not account for the feeling that the crimson threshold of the door struck her as something vile and treacherous, that if it were keeping her trapped within the teahouse, the feeling mounting as she perceived the Daimyo’s aura moving towards her, arms outstretched to grasp at her, clutching at fragments of her soul like the tearing of a spiderweb. Then – a light, flooding the room with gold. With warmth, rising like fire.


	9. Chapter 9

Silently, Allura’s bare feet crept along the matted floor, endeavoring as much as possible to avoid casting a shadow upon the paper screens. Keeping close to the wall, she darted to the side of the gold lacquered screed and peered into the distant chamber where she thought she heard the clattering of earthenware and the murmuring of a crone. Indeed such was the picture which seemed to leap from her fancy and seat itself by a tripod hot with writhing smoke, seething with an odious concoction measured out from an array of jars which lined the walls before her. What manner of cure this well-stocked apothecary hoped to effect, and upon whom, she could but conjecture. Suddenly, the shawl which the hag had draped over her hairless head was lifted and two eyes like burning coals looked out from the blackened sockets. As if to taunt her, the woman removed the maiden noh mask she had been wearing with its porcelain-like painted features, to reveal one that was as shriveled as a pygmy head – an ancient corpse which sent a sharp pang of horror through the captive’s spine.

With the suddenness of intense fright, Allura turned away from the screen, running briskly with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. The feeling that she was being watched never left her since she had arrived at the accursed palace, it was therefore of little surprise to see the cat-like eyes and towering figure of the Daimyo waiting at the threshold of the doorway. Swathed in long robes of black and gray silk, he approached her with an obsequence jarring to one who has made the distinction between prisoner and guest.

He did not speak, but by way of gesture communicated for her to follow. Allura, trusting to find no safety in any room of the abode which she then occupied, indulged him in obeying. He led her up a narrow set of stairs, the darkness of the passageway illuminated only by the candle which he held before them. With careful steps they ascended onto a ledge overlooking a forest clearing marked by clusters of stones overgrown with moss and serpentine roots.

Although the place had the signs of long neglect, it was hardly so at that moment, for a troop of laborers were working by moonlight to hack away at the overgrowth, heaving out stones with their scrawny relentless arms. Swathed in rags and armed with shovels and picks, they were making quick work of the excavation site, for such it was. Like the crone, their heads were swathed in shawls and their faces masked. It was clear that their task master held them in little regard, for it was the mask of the fool that they wore one and all.

Standing upon the escarpment, the Daimyo held her by the arm, escorting her from the ghoulish scene, which was not for her eyes to dwell upon, to another set of steps along the side of the cliffside. After a precarious descent, he supported her as she stepped down onto a wooden landing. From there they walked amongst carefully pruned plants characterized by twisting limbs and stunted dimensions. A diverse forest was gathered in miniature around engraved stones and winding rivers, ornamental ponds and wooden bridges. Rich mosses and delicate flowers bloomed in carefully arranged clusters, inviting the eye to wander and retrace the many paths – all eventually leading one to an ancient teahouse, the jewel of the ornamental tapestry.

For a moment, Allura forgot her apprehension, the arm upon which she leaned becoming not that of her captor but of some vague ethereal figure of fanciful dreams, evoked from the pages of courtly love and imbued with the poetry of nature. She closed her eyes as the cool breeze swept her hair, wafting the scent of flowers and fragrant herbs, the uplifting aroma of the pines and cedars. Allura became aware then of the scent of decomposition intermingling amongst the others which no opulent perfume could mask, wondering only why she had not perceived it during their first encounters.

This strange being had grown fixated upon her – an obsessive love which he struggled to repress, one of rules and barriers which he dared not to cross. She did not understand what prevented him from acting on the desires of a man, whether it was by an external or internal force that he was kept asunder from the object which seemed to preoccupy him night and day, yet one which he dared not approach in love. How strange too, that he had allowed her to see his face – an abominable one, of death, and another, human it was, comely even. She recalled the aristocratic beauty which she ascribed to his features on the night when he played the koto for her, knowing then the secret of her own heart – a desire for affection and a form of companionship which she had never known. It was difficult to contrast the dream prince of her imagination with the hideous wraith-like things beings whose presence tormented her in her time of captivity. Something in the vivid expression of the Daimyo’s eyes had always struck her with an aura of malevolence which could not be dispelled.

Opening her eyes again, she ascended the steps of the tea house, leaving behind some of the illusion which had swathed her senses. As it slowly ebbed away in the shadows which obscured the garden, then began to return to her the aura of the other, whose attention seemed never to leave her.

They sat down before a low table, the silence sinking in around them. Even the sound of the birds and the rustling of branches appeared to drift further and further from cognizance. She could not look away from the diabolic mask before her, the other’s dark robes merging with the shadows, the contours of his shoulders becoming blurred, until all she could see was the horned noh mask draped with long white hair, swaying and winding around itself like serpents.

Allura sought to run by found herself frozen, as though her limbs were not her own and that her spirit had left the body, hovering somewhere just above it, while it sat like a lifeless doll, its face vacant and pale. She heard a man’s voice calling her name, the sound coming from no particular direction, at once distant and very near. She could not account for the feeling that the crimson threshold of the door struck her as something vile and treacherous, that if it were keeping her trapped within the teahouse, the feeling mounting as she perceived the Daimyo’s aura moving towards her, arms outstretched to grasp at her, clutching at fragments of her soul like the tearing of a spiderweb. Then – a light, flooding the room with gold. With warmth, rising like fire.

…

The man she had seen in the woods, the monk in the candle-lit window. It was he who had come, his face impassive as stone as he sat down at the Daimyo’s table. Allura expected the fiend to stir from his seat, yet he too acquired a statuesque stillness and made no sign of retaliation.

The teahouse assumed a different character. Allura was surprised that she had not noticed it before; tea had been set on the table, poured out into a large cup from which the steam still rose. The monk picked up the cup and drank first, and, refilling it form the hot kettle, passed it to Allura.

By a compulsion not of her own mind’s will, she too drank from the vessel, passing it back to the monk, who then filled the host’s cup. The silence was resumed as they sat watching in expectation. The Daimyo’s hands cupped the glazed earthenware, his limbs and posture betraying his reluctance, a strain upon his body, for long did he hesitate before at last he too lifted the cup to the lips of the demon’s mask.

The two watched as the hot liquid was poured – the mask was disintegrating, first melting at the lips into a ghastly maw of infernal anguish such as Allura could hardly look upon, and then, by cracks which gradually expanded across its surface like a breaking shell of glass. Before it shattered into shards, the demon set down the cup and covered his face with his hands. Meanwhile Allura had watched mesmerized at the strange doings before her, the other’s form taking on the semblance of a statue of mourning. For the first time in many days she felt safe, believing that the demon could no longer see her, comforted by the presence of the monk.

Rising, the stranger moved as if to leave, only his expression spoke for Allura to follow. She did not know why but somehow she hesitated, looking between him and the statuesque form of the Daimyo. When again she turned to the monk, she thought that he had vanished in thin air, only looking past the threshold did she see him striding through the garden towards the forest. Before she could resolve to run after him, he had entered the depth of the pines. All that she could do was look with the gratitude she felt for the aid that was bestowed.


	10. Chapter 10

Again the feeling of fear was with her, only unlike before, it was mingled with a strange pity and curiosity. For in front of her was her master, blind and motionless. She had only to reach out and lift his hands away – what would happen then, what would she see. Slowly, doubtingly, she crept forward – when suddenly the sound of steps startled her to turn around.

Behind her was a creature that was half man and half beast in countenance, of tall stature and dressed in the attire of a general, although worn with the decay of many centuries, it retained the imposing majesty of authority. He grasped her roughly and pulled her outside by the arm, at first she struggled against him but finally acquiesced, knowing the futility of resisting the unearthly hoard by mere force. At last he deposited her in her chamber, departing with the sound of locks turning behind him.

Allura felt that she was left to herself again, not knowing what to do but ponder over the things she had seen and their implications on what was to become of her. She regretted her indecision, which numbing her impulse of action, had perhaps let slip from her grasp her only chance of escape.

For several restless nights Allura kept vigil, struggling between sleep and wakefulness. The muffled sound of footsteps and indistinct voices in some distant chamber of the subterranean palace would often force her to strain her ears, lest some indispensable fragment may be caught, a word of warning whispered in the night. She knew not how long she could endure her state of feigned sleep, indeed she often rebuked herself for what she could not help, discovering upon the morrow that she had dozed off into the realm of dreams, bringing with them a kaleidoscopic view of the fears which she imagined during the day.

One night, the rustling of robes and the shifting of a screen alerted her to the presence of one who caused her to recoil so far as the forget even the vestiges of decorum. The visage of the ghastly hag haunted her still, even the maiden mask, with its eerie smile of a wolfish benignity, could not efface the memory of it. The apparition approached the stiff form of Allura, greeting her in a strain of cordiality before alighting on the matt at the side of her bed.

Allura said nothing, regarding her with wide child-like eyes brimming with fear and defiance.

From her sleeve, the witch drew a cup into which she dabbed her withered hand, and with a swift gesture smeared some of the substance on Allura’s forehead. She felt a burning sensation and a wave of nausea which was but momentary until it was absorbed by her skin. When she touched where the smear had been there was no sign of a mark, whether this bode good or ill, she had a sinking feeling that it was the latter. The witch laughed a low guttural laugh, amused to see the lady’s consternation, and then, strange indeed, she spoke in fluent English.

She told Allura not to worry, that she had come but to talk, and the spell cast upon her would merely allow her to be understood.

The witch asked no questions of Allura, but rather, sought to explain how matters stood. Firstly, she spoke of the Daimyo, whose indisposition prevented him from giving his own account, being in a state rendering him incapable of speech – having no tongue – save for by the aid of her spells. Nor would he have her see him, for with much wickedness he had been accosted by enemies, about whom no more need be spoken, lest by recalling them their accursed presence should be drawn near.

To these explanations, which aroused more questions than they appeared to answer, Allura listened keenly, all the while striving to avoid the witch’s piercing gaze. Believing that the moment was right, she inquired of the meaning of the excavation work that she had so lately beheld. The witch paused, as if weighing how best to answer, until at last she gave a history of rival clans in times of old, struggling for supremacy and favor with the emperor, the ancestors of whom where buried on the sacred grounds over which nature had draped her shroud.

Even from the spirit realm, these powers exerted their influence on behalf of their descendants, and brought misfortune upon their rivals, furthermore, meddling in the fate of the Daimyo himself, who sought to reclaim the honor denied to him in his past life. For by the unjust petitions of these vengeful spirits, the scales were weighed against him with the deities who decreed his future reincarnations – condemning him to the demonic realm, from which, by industry and negotiation, he had ascended into that of mortal men.

Unfortunately, his exalted person remained in a state fettered by the signs of an unhallowed presence, chiefly, an appearance which evokes fear and aversion in the hearts of the living, which although useful at times, is often a barrier to a life of either advancement or repose – the chief aims of all sentient beings.

Therefore, it is by weakening and coercing the influence of his opponents that he endeavors to move their surviving spirits to beseech pardon from the deities, lessening his period of damnation – or else giving him a mortal form. Already many of the chief powers have made obeisance to our master, the witch declared proudly, yet several more remain obstinate, and so further influence must be exerted from this realm upon the next.


	11. Chapter 11

The disturbance and dishonoring of the ancestral graves seemed to Allura an act hardly worthy of a great Daimyo, yet of this she did not speak of to the witch, lest she should by ineffectual reproaches bring wrath upon herself. Instead she asked what manner of curse was cast upon the Daimyo and how was it that he at times succeeded in appearing before her in the guise of a man.

To this the witch did not hesitate to answer, praising her own mastery of obscure crafts and alchemies, as potent as they were punishing to one who should grow dependent upon them. To be returned to the shape which he once bore, the Daimyo must suffer to have fragments of his disentombed bones to be ground into powder – the chief ingredient in a brew which would render an illusion for but a few hours, for the sole pleasure of his beloved.

The mention of the hitherto unspoken affection which he bore her caused discomfort when brought to light so callously by the witch, for it was one Allura could not easily bring herself to accept, nor reject openly for the fate that would befall her. A part of her felt shamed for how strongly she clung to life, perhaps to the detriment of her ability to act upon the heroic escapes which she may have otherwise attempted, yet her unfamiliarity as to the extent and workings of supernatural powers continued to keep her at bay. Allura believed that if she waited patiently, the opportune moment would soon come when she would be courageous rather than foolhardy.

The intimation of the Daimyo’s love was therefore passed over in silence by the lady, as the hag resumed her narrative, giving account of all of their strained encounters as if her accursed presence had forever followed in their footsteps – a most unpleasant and probable notion.

Further she spoke of their past enterprising to take possession of the ancestral house and retrieve the Daimyo’s bones buried within the ground beneath it, a partial success – all of which were found save for the skull. She looked searchingly at Allura and then, pausing only long enough to watch her victim squirm with discomfort, spoke of the lady’s goodliness in bringing the item to them after some thief and scoundrel had made away with it.

Allura was obliged to recount how she came into possession of the skull, a story sufficiently mysterious to herself as to allow her to tell it without much embellishment or omission other than in her description of the workman (for indeed it was hardly more than a distracted glimpse that she had of him), lest she should bring harm upon one who had sought to do good by her.

The witch seemed not fully satisfied with what she had heard, but she did not press her further. Instead she turned the conversation to trivialities such as whether her chamber and meals were found to be agreeable to her tastes, and if there was something more that could be done to add to her comfort – suggesting that measurements be made for new robes for her, while detailing the vast riches which the Daimyo was prepared to lay down before her as dowry and pledge of honorable devotion –that even queens should envy the magnificence of her wardrobe and jewel coffer.

Before Allura could reply to these inducements, they were interrupted by the sound of sliding doors. Their eyes were met by the figure of the Daimyo, who this time leaned on an ebony cane as he made his way to where the women sat. The witch, as if to lighten the strain in the air, reprimanded him for entering the ladies chamber so callously, although sufficiently lame of foot, he was not yet a benign old grandfather to take such liberties. To this the master said nothing, sitting down with some difficulty by the charcoal brazier, the only warmth in the cold room.

None spoke further of the change which taken place with the Daimyo’s, the implications of which Allura understood too well – his crippled state, the price which the demon had paid to appear before her thus in the guise of a mortal. She wondered in that moment what worth he attached to the hours they had spent upon frivolous pastimes.


	12. Chapter 12

Each night an attendant would bring Allura a brew which she was obliged to drink, for the servant would not depart until being satisfied that the cup had been drained to the dregs. She would then lay be left to sleep until the designated hour of morning – for no sun was seen to mark the passage of time in the depths of the cavern, the lights oil lamps being out and a hush descending over the supernatural household were the only signs of night to the unfortunate captive.  
Sometime approaching midnight, or so her imaginative fancy believed, a repeating vision would visit her. Four maids would carry a stone slab over which was draped a scarlet shroud – ceremoniously they would lower it onto her bed and it would become apparent to Allura that beneath the shroud there were arranged the bones of a human figure in the posture of sleep. Whether this ritual took place in dream or in delirious consciousness she knew not. There it did not end, another hour or so passed and then another visitation took place, this time that of one dressed in the garb of a monk, who, kneeling beside the bed, would lay a sword between Allura and the bones.   
All the while she felt herself to be in a petrified state, unable to move and hardly able to breathe. Although she rested with her back turned to the bones, the lady was somehow aware of all that occurred behind her from a vantage point somewhere in the ceiling. Then she seemed to dream of a battle, this too occurring night after night, of a lion fighting a falcon which aimed its talons at the feline’s eyes while the other pounced with its claws unsheathed. In this ferocious battle of spiritual enemies, neither side seemed to gain a definite victory, for the wounds of each would heal with unearthly rapidity, and their agility was so evenly matched as to preserve each from his foe.   
When she awoke in the morning there would be no sign of the bones, although that part of the mattress seemed as if there had slept the winter night in icy silken robes, so cold it seemed. The only material evidence which remained of a visitation was a fragment of folded mulberry paper upon which were beautiful characters in black ink calligraphy. Their meaning came to her as if she had known them in a past life, lying beside the shade of their author.  
In the daytime, a semblance of routine and repetition was likewise observed, for it seemed the Daimyo would have her become learned in the language of his people. Shortly after her morning meal was taken away, a figure in the mask of an elderly man, robed in the garments of a scholar, would appear before her behind a screen. Between them a mute page girl would pass scrolls of calligraphy which Allura would be instructed in pantomime to copy out as best as she could manage.   
With considerable patience, the instructor would return to her the corrected passages, eventually introducing some very antiquated English texts into his repertoire which she would work at translating. Whether by the deficiencies of the material, the instructors methods or the pupil’s abilities It must be admitted that progress was slow and questionable, for the archaic dialects of both the English characters and the strange symbols which she was set to imitate did little in enabling her to converse with her learned masters without the aid of sorcery. Nevertheless, she applied herself to this work with natural conscientiousness even after the original enthusiasm had exhausted itself, working by lamplight late into the evening until dinner was brought in.  
Her tutor would then depart and an arrangement of porcelain bowls of diverse sizes were arranged before her, each containing an intimidating array of artistically arranged dainties. While some delighted her with their delicate favors, a portion of these bouquets were rather beyond the appreciation of her palate, unaccustomed to the scrutinizing eye of the eel and the sea urchin bathing in caramelized ginger. Nevertheless, she forced herself to eat all that was presented to her lest she should appear uncivil and thus offend her host, towards whom she had formed a stance of ambivalent decorum until she could properly decide on which side they morally fell.   
On a certain evening, it appeared to her that she had come within a sword’s breadth of deciding the matter.   
Thus it had occurred – after her usual studies and silent lectures, Allura was summoned into the Daimyo’s presence. He was seated upon a throne of gold, carried upon a palanquin and lowered onto a raised platform where there was placed a seat of equal majesty – there the lady was ushered to sit, which she did, finding herself ill at ease in such an elevated position.   
There was no sign of the demon’s noh mask, his face bore the features of a handsome man, only the lengths of white hair falling over his shoulders and his vivid amber eyes leant him an uncommon appearance that hinted at something more than mortal man. He smiled at her, yet there was something haughty in his manner which prevented her from reciprocating, as if he were proudly admiring some prized jewel of his treasure house.   
Before long, a procession of ladies dressed in silk kimonos walked onto another much larger platform about a foot below that of the two thrones. There they danced to the sound of the flute, shamisen and the koto, played by minstrels hidden behind ornamented screens.   
Allura enjoyed seeing their graceful movements and beautiful attire, their red lips contrasting strikingly against the whiteness of their powdered skin, their coiffured hair laden with precious ornaments. After a series of dances, intermitted with seasonal refreshments and sake, the ladies bowed profusely, the chief dancer – fairest amongst the performers – approaching the thrones and kissing the feet of Allura, and then of the Daimyo. Whilst doing so, whether by mischance or impudence, the dancer had moved the master’s foot such that it came clattering to the floor with a resounding thud, revealing it to be a prosthetic limb of a kind.   
In that instant, the Daimyo unsheathe a sword which was about to fall upon the outstretched neck of the prostrate lady when Allura uttered a cry, stopping his hand where it lingered in the air over the quivering victim. With stifled fury he dismissed the dancers and attendants, after a moment returned the sword to its sheath. He did not stoop to reposition the artificial limb and Allura continued to gaze at him with questioning eyes, which he answered with hostile embarrassment, in time melting into a resigned sigh. He drank from his sake cup and seemed to be ruminating in his thoughts. He turned to her again, this time with his hand outstretched to push a lock of hair from her cheek. She winced at the unnatural coldness of his hand and the reminiscences of the scene which she had just witnessed. He recoiled his gesture and summoned his attendants to escort her back to her chamber. She never learned of what had become of the woman.  
Other meetings followed this one, and each time the Daimyo’s efforts to veil his disappearing form grew more apparent – until at last – he himself grew resigned to the futility of concealment. One evening he appeared before her devoid of the regal pomp to which she had grown accustomed. She could clearly observe the absence of both of his legs. One arm remained to him and it seemed some of the bones of his rib cage were also absent. Allura found herself moved to pity towards one to whom she was not naturally disposed to view with sympathy. He looked to her like a half-finished doll, carefully set aside by the master craftsman who had formed his delicate face.  
In the mournful regard which they exchanged, absent was the usual superiority and antipathy which they so oft projected. The humbling sight of one another struck deeply such that neither spoke. In a beseeching manner, he outstretched his hand to her, and she, holding it in her own, wondered at what would come next; when she saw him again, day after day, he would become less and less as one of the living, for there was only so much that could be given up.   
These changes were mimicked in her dreamlike visions, for when the attendants carried the sepulchral stone she observed that the diminishing of the bones which were arranged upon it. While the days passed as usual, the Daimyo no longer summoned her, nor was the witch to be called on. One night, a striking change took place in her visions, for this time it was the monk who appeared before the procession, unshrouding his face such that she was able to recognize him as the man from the teahouse. The two of them watched as the maidens carried the headstone, upon it was a skull – that which had once been in her possession. The monk took an inkhorn and brush from the folds of his robe and on the headstone painted the symbol which had been on the paper wrapping the skull. In that instant over his figure flashed the apparition of the workman. She awoke, looking about her but seeing nothing through the darkness. Allura wondered what hour it was, the cavernous room was still bathed in darkness and hardly a sound could she discern.   
She then observed an elevation in the folds of the blanket and lifted it to reveal that which she beheld in an uncertain state of dreaming. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the approach of footsteps, then perceiving the faint glow of a lamp drawing nearer. A trembling figure wrapped in shrouds knelt at her bedside, its head bowed. In garbled words spoken in no language she could recognized it asked her for the object she clutched in her hands. Before Allura had time to respond, the shouting of many voices and the beating of metal gongs resounded through the echoing halls. In little time, the chamber was illuminated by the serval dozen torches of a congregation of monks, many holding the implements of creating a thunderous ruckus – with the effect that the shrouded figure was nowhere to be seen.   
One spoke to her in the native tongue, and then another, in what she presumed was Dutch. A familiar face suddenly appeared before her, that of young Pidge, who embraced her without ceremony. Allura was still too shaken to fall fully into rejoicing, and as she looked to the disheveled blankets she was disconcerted to find that the skull was missing. She looked around and saw that it was in the hands of one of the monks, and, forgetting herself, rushed to take it back from her, for something in her chest told her that it was a matter of grave importance that the right thing was done by it. What this meant she had yet to uncover, only she did not know who she could entrust this decision to save for herself, to whom the fate of the Daimyo had become inexplicably bound. With alarming certainty, she realized in that moment that it was his very ashes which the nightly potion contained.  
By the girl’s translation, the monks expressed that one amongst their brethren, after long fasting had been visited by the spirit of his revered great-grandfather. By this spiritual intervention alone were they able to locate the cavernous abode of the demon, for in the weeks that had passed the lady’s friends were despairing of find her. Not long after her disappearance had been discovered, the authorities and the monks of the neighboring monasteries scoured the forest and mountains in hopes of identifying some trace of her whereabouts, yet no evidence presented itself to their watchful eyes. The villagers likewise offered their assistance, but to no avail, it seemed to all that Allura had vanished to a realm beyond the reach of earthly means.   
The lady expressed her gratitude and followed the monks as they led her down the mountain path to a guesthouse where she would be able to spend the night. Warming herself by a brazier, she told Pidge of what had transpired during the time when she was considered lost to the world, not without compunction, for there was some superstitious fear made her wary of speaking of particulars when it came to the doings of spirits, whether good or evil. While pity prevented her from relinquishing the remaining bones of the accursed Daimyo for ignoble destruction, she at the same time feared the malign influences which may emanate from the ancient skull. Pidge, who was of a more pragmatic disposition, did not share in her anxieties but rather, believed that it had been by the influence of illness and delirium that Allura had seen what she had seen. As to the Daimyo’s role in the matter, she could be convinced that he was the primary agent in her disappearance and had likewise made himself scarce once he realized that detection was immanent. Perhaps the monk who led them to the cavern had played some part in the scheme of her kidnapping, and at last moved by remorse, conjured the supposed revelation. This explanation, while plausible, had no effect upon Allura, who did not doubt the reality of what she had seen.   
Further, she urged Pidge that they should return to the location of the cavern and lead the monks to the grave site lest there was something that they could do to salvage the remaining tombs and appease those spirits whose abodes have been thus disturbed, fearing the greatest evil had been done to them by the excavation work. Pidge replied that she knew little of such matters but if it would comfort her in some wise she would relate her message to the monastery, but under no circumstance should she return to the site, which would likely have the effect of renewing or even heightening her disturbed state of mind. Allura did not take kindly to the other’s estimation for her, finding in it much impudence, yet she swallowed her affrontery in the light of the gratitude she felt towards the girl and the efforts she had made in returning her to safety.  
Remarking on the lateness of the hour, Pidge retired to her room and urged Allura to rest with an untroubled mind, offering to take the accursed object into safekeeping during the night. The lady thanked her but insisted on holding onto it. Once alone in her chamber, she regarded the skull, contemplating it as the only material object which marked the reality of her strange experiences. Extinguishing the oil lamp, she laid down upon the bed, setting the skull down upon the matted floor beside her, yet the imagined gaze of hallow eyes presented her with no hope of finding repose. She would have it neither near nor far from her, as the reluctant keeper of something which she could neither give up to the judgment of others nor feel confident in her own thoughts and feelings on what must be done. Indeed, even the nature of the consequences which may attach themselves to the object were vague, falling largely in the realm of mysticism and superstition.   
When a water basin and a breakfast of rice and tea was brought to her upon the following morning, she was still much troubled in her thoughts, so far as to ask that no visitors be admitted into the room, deciding that she needed time to sift through her conscience undisturbed by outside influences. Pacing about the room with the signs of agitation, she was soon brought to seek the outside air. Waiting for an opportune moment, Allura slipped out of the chamber unobserved, leaving the guesthouse by doorway leading to the outhouse. From there she was easily able to make her way to a dirt path in the direction of the woods, taking care to hide her face with a light blanket which she used as a shawl. While these haphazard disguises were not entirely suitable in averting the attention of passing villagers, she nevertheless was able to reach her destination without incident. There she paused before the gaping entrance of the cave.   
During the daytime, although an uninviting sight, it did not rouse in her the acute fear which she imagined she would feel at returning to the spot of her former captivity. Walking along the dark corridor, lit only by the lantern which she carried, she began to despair of finding that which she had sought. Indeed after what seemed like hours, the fear of encountering malevolent spirits was superseded by that of being lost in the caves turning passageways. It was with the greatest relief that she ran to the light filtering through distant foliage. There was the escarpment and the ancient gravesite below it. Although the demon’s palace had vanished like a beautiful illusion, the work of his servants had remained as they had left it.   
Suddenly she heard a voice, as if carried by the wind. She looked around but saw no one, yet she could not mistake it for any other – it was that of the Daimyo. She dared not unwrap the skull carried in her satchel, not wishing to see whether its jaw moved and its eyes burned with infernal flames as she imagined. The voice told her of what she must do to ensure that their spirits should meet in the realm hereafter. His instructions were these: to place his remains upon the red silk cloth beside her prior to the hour of midnight – this sacred tapestry she would find under one of the stones below, marked with his ancestral crest. Observing these rights each night until the full moon, each night she must likewise grind some of the skull into powder, mixing it with honey, sage, clove, and the blood of a heron, the latter she would find perching by the pond of a nearby plum blossom grove. With the sword found under the stone this must be done, taking care not to allow so much as a drop to fall upon the earth, so the voice instructed. Only four such nights remained for the ritual to be completed, and although the prior night had been neglected, this omission may be amended by the sacrifice of a nightingale on the eve of year’s first snowfall, but care must be taken to avoid further errors or delays. To these instructions Allura listened to but distractedly, unable to shake her ambivalence to the end which the other sought, nor fully lay her trust in him.  
Behind her she heard the sound of distant chanting and the smell of incense floating through the air, gradually growing closer until the figure of a monk was seen standing beside her. Setting down the implements of purification, he did not hesitate to reprimand her for putting herself in harm’s way by returning to the accursed grounds. Suspecting the methods of the malignant spirit, he and his comrades had been waiting in a nearby passageway to listen to the demon’s errands, believing that he would not fail to take advantage of the opportunity of speaking with her alone. They urged her that she must not in any way submit to his influence and that a group amongst them were already set to the task of searching out the sword and cloth in order to destroy them at the alter of the guardian deity.   
From the walls of rock walked forth the Daimyo and his guards, yet none but Allura showed any sign of perceiving his presence. She trembled as she approached the monk, who still speaking to her of her folly, at once grew silent as a sword seemed to pass through his chest. In the same manner were the others dispatched by the Daimyo’s followers, each dressed in the war masks and garments of samurai and likewise armed with blades and daggers. Not a droplet of blood was seen to fall, yet a disconcerting emptiness of the eyes was apparent, one and all standing stupefied and then falling onto the ground, their skin slowly growing pale with the marks of a departed life.   
The Daimyo again reminded her of her errand, and receiving now answer from the horrified Allura, in his impatience led her to the ancient gravesite, with his sword cutting back the overgrowing roots to reveal the familiar symbol of his tomb. He told her to dig and this she did with her hands, struggling to keep back tears for her own fate and that of the monks. Moved by pity, the Daimyo struggled with his conscience as he regarded her do his will in forced obedience.   
At last he spoke, asking her to pause in her work and instead of the instructions which he had previously given, to return to his grave at nightfall, leaving the skull behind, hidden in the undergrowth of a certain tree which grew close to the stone. Then he and his soldiers were seen no more and Allura was left alone in the forest. In the hours that passed, she paced through the forest like a ghost, finding no peace in her heart nor in her surroundings, fearing to return to the village in case someone should seek to stop her from her meeting. In her heart she knew that it would be the last time that she would encounter the Daimyo as a mortal woman, for she believed the gaze of bitter acquiescence and mourning which she had seen in his eyes was such as could not be feigned.   
The hour finally came and she waited in the cold night air, kneeling by the stone like a deranged wandering widow who wept as much for herself as for the fate of the deceased. A part of her felt remorse for her cold-heartedness, yet she could not be moved to unite her spirit with one who she could not love. The all seeing eye of the incomplete moon perched high in the darkness of the night sky, and by its light the spirit of the Daimyo visited the lady. He was dressed in flowing robes of layered silk of somber hues, approaching her and bowing to her before lowering himself to sit at the tomb beside her. There he drew the koto which he had once played for her, its melody carrying his final words to her.  
When morning came, she rose from the cold stone upon which she had slept. Rising unsteadily, she trekked through the woods for many hours until she reached an old monastery, her torn clothing and disheveled hair adding her extraordinary appearance in the eyes of the mountain monks, who in that time rarely encountered visitors from distant continents. At first mistaken for a deranged spirit, with hypnotic eyes blue as sapphires, the surprised page was at last prevailed upon to bring her into a reception area until one of the elder monks was able to inquire after the purpose of the stranger’s visit. She asked of them to have sutras copied and blessings chanted for the repose of the soul of one whose name was inscribed upon a folded fragment of parchment which she presented to the monk, sealed with an unfamiliar hieroglyphs scrawled in wax. As the monk was about to unfold it, the lady asked that none should read what was written upon it, but that those who worked for the restless spirit’s peace should set it by a candle in the chamber in which they prayed and wrote out the sacred texts. Pressing her plight further she set down an aloe wood coffer which she had carried up the mountain, filled with gold and sliver coins of distant imperial reigns. This unusual request the monk promised to grant, accepting the coffer and exiting the chamber as he bowed to the lady. Allura left the temple, hearing the steady sound of chanting and the whispering of many voices behind her as she departed. Her eyes heavy with tears, she trudged back to the guesthouse where Pidge and several the distraught and curious villagers awaited her. From house to house travelled the fearful news of the onset of cholera, for eighteen monks had fallen ill already and twelve have passed into the hereafter.   
…  
Walking home from visiting a friend, Lance passed by the theater house, idly looking at the posters advertising various performances in the dim light of a row of red paper lamps. One in particular caught his eye, titled ‘The Mask of the Daimyo’ which made him smile sardonically, amused at the posthumous attempt at flattery or insult to the much-discussed nobleman.   
It did not take long for news to spread of the strange going-ons at Mount Koyasan, travelling like wildfire through the market-town, accompanied by the tragic onset of illness spreading from village to village. It was believed that the vengeful spirit of the Daimyo was seeking retribution, the monastery by which his spiritual burdens were to be lightened having betrayed the counsel of the witch or fair maiden, for on this point accounts failed to agree, who had been sent with the errand of delivering his soul sealed in ink and wax. Others added to this tale that not only did this inquisitiveness did he seek to punish but the lady herself who dared to scorn him. As to the means by which the spirit was to be appeased, various quarters sought to lend their hand or itching palm – all manner of exorcists, shamans, doctors and priests were employed to subdue the spirit, yet there was no sign that the outbreaks of sickness were decreasing.   
It was a relief to Allura and her guardians that she had been safely quarantined in a house on the outskirts of the town, under the guard of the local authorities. Her friends payed frequent visits, troubled lest she should fall into a state of melancholy due to the prolonged isolation and tedium of her circumstances, as well as any sense of guilt over the fantastical faults which had been ascribed to her by some. To occupy her time productively, they encouraged her to make progress on detailing her future travel plans, having Pidge make enquires with guesthouses along her planed route. This suggestion she obeyed, albeit without her original enthusiasm and with some trepidation as to the kind of reception she was likely to receive, for even among those who bore no ill will towards her, the supernatural associations which the spreading tales had lent her made some of the people ill at ease – lest her presence in their household should draw the Daimyo’s spirit. Furthermore, the lady’s spirit felt heavy with a sense of mourning which she could not confine in her companions, lest they should ridicule her for placing so much faith in dreamlike visions.   
As for the Daimyo – whose reputation as an eccentric and otherworldly figure among both locals and foreigners had soared to immeasurable height – had fittingly absented himself as an earthly man. Sometime before his recorded departure for Koyasan, the servants of the Daimyo household had all been dismissed with a generous sum added to their final wages. His accounts had been closed with various merchants, agents and authorities. Even the theater of which he was the chief patron had received what seemed to be his final bounty of goodwill. Indeed, to all appearances the man had made all necessary worldly and spiritual preparations for his departure to the hereafter. Be this as it may, the authorities were unable to mark him as more than one who is missing or absent, for no material evidence could be given indicating his death.


End file.
